Man, it’s a hot one.

Toasty.  Roasty.

103 in the afternoon sunlight.

Death Valley is hotter.

I’m melting, I’m melting.  Must be cos I’m a wicked ol’ witch.

I think ‘Merika’ is in danger of becoming Poland.

Something smells like rotten fish, and it’s not the compost pile.

Sunshine dries up the stench of rotting dung.  This is a good thing.  I’ll try to look on the sunny side of things.


About vickiesumner924

. Multi-media Artist.
This entry was posted in Life, Music, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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